


Dessert

by SenkoWakimarin



Category: Deadpool (Movieverse)
Genre: Developing Relationship, Feeding Kink, Hand Feeding, M/M, Weight Gain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2020-07-17 23:31:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19965028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SenkoWakimarin/pseuds/SenkoWakimarin
Summary: Cable's putting on weight, and Wade likes it.





	Dessert

**Author's Note:**

  * For [obsidian_snowflake](https://archiveofourown.org/users/obsidian_snowflake/gifts).



Whatever Cable's grimdark future is like, Wade quickly decides he absolutely intends to be perma-dead before it rolls around. 

First of all, whenever Cable is from thinks _Budweiser_ is a good beer. Imagine, stepping into a time when alcohol is everywhere and so easily accessible, and _choosing_ to stick with Budweiser. It's really almost insulting.

Second of all, the first time Wade shares a Snickers with his new best bud, Cable makes it through one bite before he's got tears pricked in his eyes and he's making that baby-betrayed-by-lemon face Wade quickly learns to translate as 'his poor old future-man taste buds don't know how to process that much flavour', which is just _sad_. 

Honestly that first time Wade had just wanted to make Cable's cranky, hangry attitude collapse into itself and the candy bar had been in his hand already. And it had worked, even though Cable had looked at him like he was insane for eating the whole rest of the candy himself after he'd taken his single bite. 

The really weird thing was, with most people, Wade hated sharing food. Sharing food was for people he really liked, and Cable at the start had been on thin ice. Wade kept people who broke his spine more than once on thin ice for a few probationary weeks, usually until he was able to return the favour. Most people's spines just didn't unbreak was the thing.

But see, that was the weird part with Cable. Wade told himself Cable was on thin ice -- thicker ice than most people who got on his bad side at any point, but still thin -- but he never really _felt_ it. Most people he got into that lovely witty-banter-with-a-side-of-mutual-murder relationship, Wade felt a very satisfying sort of resentful hate toward. Wade liked his resentful hate, it was a very manly and brooding sort of emotion, made him feel downright DC. 

With Cable, though, he told himself he was going to feel that, and then sought him out anyway. Which was stupid, if someone makes you feel that kind of pissed off, you don't go looking for extra minutes in their company (unless you're hunting them down for a bit of that aforementioned murder). Wade, though, made it his business to figure out where Cable was staying and pester him as often as his schedule would allow.

And Cable was pretty good with the basics of survival. Found and secured a decent, if ugly as hell, apartment, kept himself supplied in food and water, disappeared frequently to do this or that eco-terrorist mercenary thing. Sometimes he asked Wade to come along and occasionally even paid him to do so. 

But from the start, he'd buy the kind of groceries that would make a Puritan priest weep at the blandness. Salt was used sparingly and pepper? Cable wasn't familiar. He'd fry an egg or cook a chunk of meat -- _without seasoning it_ \-- and then pick his way through vegetables he didn't have names for. It was mind-boggling. Vegetables -- lettuce. He didn't know what fucking lettuce was. When he decided he liked lettuce and tried to buy a whole head of it, he'd ended up with cabbage, and he'd been _excited_ because there were so many varieties of things.

It was hard to hate a guy who got excited, unironically, over cabbage. 

So Wade went from begrudgingly foisting candy on him to buying him food, trying to broaden his culinary horizons. Cable, as it turned out, didn't like sweet too much from candy, but when Wade brought him strawberries? He'd gone nuts over them, eating them carefully, one after another, until the tips of his fingers were sticky with juice and the little carton was empty. He enjoyed cooking his own food and disdained Wade's fast food go-tos, but convincing him to go to a sit-down place and eat food someone else seasoned was a lot of fun.

The future Cable came from was bleak indeed if garlic was the thing that was going to be Cable's one true weakness. 

He tries to explain it to Wade, but all Wade really gets out of it is that the future sucks. Absolutely and without pause, sucks. Agriculture as it's done now becomes almost impossible, a ton of conventional plants go extinct because after the massive climate change global warming clusterfuck goes critical, they simply can't survive. Cable talks about nutrition supplements with a nostalgic fondness, like he's remembering a childhood treat no one made right anymore.

Honestly thank god, because they sounded disgusting. 

What Wade finds he _does_ like about Cable's horrible future is that, because Cable is from there and now is stuck here, he needs a guide into the world of Food That Doesn't Taste Like Shit. 

And maybe Wade doesn't like sharing _his_ food, but taking a buddy out and getting him to try something new _was_ fun. They both got their own plates and Cable let Wade order for him which was so adorably trusting that Wade hadn't even pranked him yet, ordering something super spicy or weird. 

Cable loved bread, Wade discovered. Figured, as much as he liked beer. Carb hog. Sometimes when Wade was feeling bored, he'd hunt out little bakeries and buy a couple things to take to Cable. The longer Cable stayed in this time, the more he seemed to appreciate the concept of dessert, though he still refused to eat much refined sugar. Cinnamon bread was a good treat, chocolate dipped fruit if Wade wanted to watch Cable torture himself. 

Wade couldn't cook much beyond pancakes, unless you counted things that could be entirely cooked via microwave, which Wade didn't. Cable seemed to like his pancakes, even if he put the syrup in a little cup on the side and dipped sparingly, like some kind of maple-hating heretic. That was fine, not being able to cook was fine, because Cable picked up the concept of ‘food seasoning’ pretty handily and was content to cook for both of them even when he didn't exactly invite Wade over.

It's nice to watch. And the slow evolution of Cable's physique from 'malnourished-and-chronically-dehydrated', where his skin was pretty much shrink-wrapped over his muscles and he had that perfect action-hero six pack going on, to what Wade couldn't help thinking of as 'ex-boxer Dad bod' was just a special kind of treat.

Six months in, Cable had a thin padding of fat softening all the hard lines of his body, and Wade was pretty sure he was in love. Cable was completely without self-consciousness; he accepted the thickening of his body without complaint. He exercised a lot, but no more or really any differently than he had at the start. A lot of morning runs and weight lifting (boring) and yoga (hot, Wade donated a pair of yoga pants that _actually got worn_ ) and meditation (boring but also hot, because Cable liked to do it naked whether Wade was lounging in his space or not). 

Wade teased, because it was way more natural to tease than to do what he _wanted_ to do, which was smother himself in Cable's tits. One hard metal, one soft, fat-padded muscle? Oh, death never sounded quite so sexy.

And he’s had some _very_ erotic murders committed upon him.

Wade wouldn't dream of softening up Mr. Born-to-War. It's not about trying to make him lose that gritty, too-keen edge, it's not a gag about making him look old and out of shape. Wade's considered those angles, and there's merit in using either as a cover if anyone calls out his little feeder habit he's picked up with Cable, but neither option is rooted in the reality of the situation. 

Because Wade didn't start feeding him hoping to cause anything except maybe two seconds without the hardcase act, and he certainly didn't keep doing it out of some hope to point and laugh in the future. He would happily encourage others to think either option rather than the truth, because those options were conniving and calculated and didn't immediately betray his shmoopy, too-sweet emotions.

The truth of it was, Wade had twigged immediately to Cable finding something that filled him was an uncomplicated joy, and Wade liked seeing the man smile. Maybe out of spite, since Cable seemed inclined to do that as little as possible, or maybe just because Cable had been through a very literal sort of hell and was now trapped in time with people he didn't know or understand, instead of home with his wife and daughter. Cable was stuck here because he went above and beyond to save Wade and it was a very low effort way to force the bastard not to hate every minute here.

And then when Cable had started to soften up in a very physical way, hard lines of muscle padded gently by curves of fat? 

Like hell was Wade going to stop _that_.

Cable looked good, softer. Not everyone could wear extra weight well, but Cable pulled it off, the softest, barest hint of a gut, the gentle heaviness of his non-metal titty. He had two little handholds of fat, one on each hip, that Wade could barely resist squeezing every time he saw Cable shirtless.

Wade prefers to show up unannounced. Cable can turn him away, but Wade's not opening himself up to being turned down if he doesn't act like a guest. He's an intruder, because then it's always a pleasant surprise when Cable approves of Wade's food-gifts and encourages him to sit and hang for a while. 

Climbing the fire escape and climbing in through Cable's window isn't _really_ necessary, but picking his front lock is tedious and the window thing encourages him not to look at this as being too friendly. Cable barely even glances up from his ugly-ass laptop as Wade stands up straight and stretches, a paper bag clutched in either fist. 

The window shuts behind Wade with finality and the AC hums to life, almost immediately cooling the humid, sticky air that followed Wade inside.

"I know you know what doors are," Cable says dryly, gesturing vaguely toward the front of the apartment. "Not that I think you banging on doors asking nonsense at eight in the morning is any more a pleasant prospect than creeping through the window."

Plopping one of the paper bags on Cable's keyboard, just missing letting it settle on his fingers, Wade laughs. "I figure the less I disturb your neighbors the happier you'll be in the long run, and the longer you're happy, the longer I can get away with bringing you exciting new breakfast finds."

Watching Cable carefully unwrap the country omelette roll thing Wade had selected this morning is fun. It's always fun to watch him carefully open something new. He shows very little apprehension in spite of knowing who gave him the bag. He genuinely seems eager most days to see what Wade's found. The early days, he'd been more grumpy, cut his way into things, ripped things open, sniffed suspiciously like he thought Wade was dumb enough to use a fragrant poison. 

Now he goes slow, relishing the experience. When he sniffs the breakfast sandwich, it's clear that he does it to enjoy the smell of fresh bread and the livelier scents of the omelette _in_ the bread. 

Wade very studiously does not have an emotional response to watching Cable take his first, eager bite, witnessing the play of his reactions on his face as he chews. He's not desperate enough to get hot under the collar for Cable enjoying a _sandwich_ ; Wade Wilson is a well-travelled man of the world and it takes something extra special to turn his head. Certainly the way Cable's throat works to swallow that big bite and the way the wrinkles around his eyes deepen when he really enjoys a thing are pretty, but they're not the sort of images to have Wade paralyzed.

Nope, he has absolutely no emotional response to that sight at all. No physical response either; he's watching just to see if Cable likes the food or not. No point committing to memory the bakery if Cable doesn't even like the food, so he's just watching to keep track of reactions here, that's it. 

Sometimes, Cable will share -- or at least, offer to share -- the things Wade brings him. Wade always declines, despite the squirmy, burning sort of delighted desire it sparks in him. He _knows_ Cable isn't offering anything other than a bite of something he thinks is particularly good, but Wade figures turning this whole thing onto the FWB route should be done slowly, with at least a little care, because Cable strikes him as the kind of guy to burn bridges before on reflex if he's startled or approached wrong. 

Wade's certainly not wooing him with food, and Cable's not wooing him back with anything at all.

This time, Cable wolfs the whole sandwich after a couple more reserved bites. That's how Wade knows he really, _really_ likes something; he throws dignity out the window to devour it before anyone can try to take it away. The fact that absolutely no one is going to try doesn't matter; Wade knows a selfish, ingrained habit when he sees one.

While Cable licks his fingers and surreptitiously tries to make sure he didn't lose any crumbs, Wade slowly unrolls the top of the second bag, taking care to make sure the paper crinkles loudly and Cable won't be able to ignore it. He can tell just by the way the weight settles in his hand through the bag that the treats have gone mushy, softened in the heat, but that's okay; that same heat means when the bag is open, the sweet, rich smell of good chocolate blooms out.

One of those factors snags Cable's attention, sound or smell. Wade pretends to be focused on extracting a candy from the bag, enjoying the feeling of chocolate melting to his fingers over firm fruit. He thinks about being slutty with it -- he does that sometimes, because it's always fun to watch people get uncomfortable by unsexy people being blatantly sexy -- but decides against it solely on the basis that the chocolate will really just throw in the towel before he can fully channel the appropriate levels of slutty to do justice to how good this smells.

The strawberry is fat and sweet under the chocolate, perfectly ripe, just the right amount of tart to offset the juicy sweet. Wade's pleased little moan is completely genuine; the soft, warm chocolate over the perfect strawberry really is a sort of manna from heaven. 

He eats the berry in three bites and then takes a note out of Cable's book and sucks his fingers clean. Only when he's sucking the last traces of chocolate from his ring finger does he look back at Cable, perfectly aware that he's been the focus of mini-T800's complete attention for the duration. He lifts his brows and holds the bag out in offering, leaning against the wall across from where Cable sits, pulling his finger out of his mouth with a loud 'pop'. 

"You want one? They're really good," he sing-songs the last two words, waving the bag. 

Cable looks predictably conflicted at the offer. That's why Wade had settled on the chocolate covered berries again; he knew he liked them, and Cable did too, except the sugar was just a little _too much_ at first. It was fun to watch him try to be the hardass adult about it, tell himself no because it was chocolate and chocolate wasn't good for him.

"Looks real sweet," Cable finally says, like that's an excuse to abstain. 

Reaching into the bag, Wade extracts the smallest of the four berries he'd picked. This one had crushed nuts mixed into the chocolate, and Cable _loved_ nuts. Wade was hoping to find out just how well that euphemism worked any day now. He holds the treat back out toward Cable, stepping across the space to practically stick it in his mouth.

He expects Cable to make one of his bitchy faces and slap his hand out of his face, or grab the berry, or otherwise be irritated about Wade jumping straight into his personal space. A few months ago, Cable might have shoved a knife through his arm or cut off the fingers holding the berry, violence so automatic that Wade had no trouble believing that he really was sorry when he said so.

He absolutely does _not_ expect Cable to steady his wrist in his own hand -- human, flesh and bone and not a scrap of metal in sight -- and lean in and take a bite of the candy, but that's exactly what happens. Cable winces a little at the initial sweet, but seems unable to resist it, either, leaning in to take another bite almost immediately.

Unexpected, but Wade is definitely not complaining. 

When the berry is gone, Wade starts to retract his hand, expecting Cable to let him loose, and gets another pleasant shock when Cable tightens his grip and, with that glorious heavy eye-contact he's so good at, leans in and sucks Wade’s sticky fingers into his mouth.

To this point, Wade’s dick had shown a moderate interest in the proximity, the tight grip on his wrist, the intimacy of Cable literally eating out of his hand. The warm, wet suction on his fingers, the meaningful swipe of tongue, the pleased groan from Cable; all of it conspires to get him rock hard in seconds, and the thin whimper that leaves him as Cable slowly pulls back and considers Wade’s chocolaty thumb is entirely understandable.

Cable lavs his tongue over the pad of Wade’s thumb, sucks on it to get every trace of chocolate, and Wade is embarrassingly close just from that. Maybe it’s the fact that Cable keeps up the heavy eye-contact, maybe it’s the fact that Cable is entirely unbothered by the fact that Wade’s skin feels like a special-effects nightmare. Probably it’s the fact that Wade’s been jerkin’ it on the regular to the thought of Cable’s voice and rough hands and his soft, religiously lip-balmed mouth.

“Jesusfuck,” Wade breathes when Cable finally lets him go, fighting the urge to stick is spit-wet fingers in his own mouth. “You suck dick like that? I am not above dipping myself in chocolate, big guy.”

That earns him a laugh, one of Cable’s deep, rumbly-low laughs. “Don’t think you need any extra sugar.”

With the sun up and streaming through the window, it’s shaping up to be a fuck-off hot day. Cable’s ugly ass apartment has AC, and it’s got Cable, who’s looking at him like he was looking at that strawberry, interested and trying to come up with a reason to deny himself. 

And Wade could drop this, let Cable work up to it naturally. The offer is now, as they say, officially on the table. Pretty goddamn plain at this point, Cable’s spit cool on Wade’s fingers now, Wade’s dick hard enough to be uncomfortable; the interest is mutual. Wade knows how to do baby steps though. Cable maybe doesn’t, given the whole finger sucking thing that just happened, but that doesn’t mean Wade needs to push it.

He could drop it and they could keep dancing around it until one of them trips and drags the other into bed, and they call it ‘passion’ or ‘tension’ or some other trite, hurried excuse, so they can both call it a mistake and move on with something like dignity. 

“I got two more strawberries melting in this bag,” Wade says, holding the bag up. “You can eat ‘em now, or I can stick ‘em in the fridge for later. Leave you a little somethin’ for dessert.”

The look Cable gives him is hungry, plain and hotter than Wade wants to admit. There’s a fine line between that kind of smoldering look and the look Cable wears when he’s in full-murder-mode. Wade’s thinking maybe he should step back, do as he’d suggested and at least get the strawberries in the fridge, and then Cable’s got a hold of him, grabbing him and dragging him sharply in. He struggles on reflex, plants his heels for a second before twigging to the lack of violence, and then lets himself be pulled down into Cable’s lap.

His thighs are soft and firm, just right for sitting on, and when he gets a fist full of Wade’s shirt, there’s no universe where Wade doesn’t drop the bag of strawberries and kiss the taste of chocolate out of Cable’s mouth.


End file.
